


runnin' free in the world, we've got all weekend

by orphan_account



Series: keep me by your side [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing and Singing, Declarations Of Love, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endearments, Eventual Happy Ending, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Heavy Angst, Hurt Elio, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love, Love Bites, Love Confessions, M/M, Neck Kissing, Pet Names, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Protective Oliver, Protectiveness, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 02:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12666096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Why don’t you want me?” he asked, sounding more like a whimper, tears clouding his vision again, they threatened to fall and that they did, his body shook as he forced himself to try and stand, to get away, to escape.“What do I do? Why does she get to have you?” Anger and sorrow all mixed into one. He tried to move, but Oliver’s arms tightened around him.“I do want you. I want you so much. I can’t stop loving you,” Oliver whispered, cupping Elio’s face again. “I want to kiss you and hold you. I want all of it. All of it again and more.”___Part two of the angst!





	runnin' free in the world, we've got all weekend

**Author's Note:**

> Will they speak or won't they? 
> 
> Note: Oliver does not want to take advantage of Elio, so they talk and kiss and sleep. That's all. 
> 
> Any mistakes are my own. I own no one.

* * *

The week passed by slowly and painfully and awkwardly.

Oliver was staying with them for another six weeks. There was no wedding ring on his finger Elio had noticed. Still, that meant nothing. It was a Friday night when Marzia met him again for dancing. Drinking and smoking seemed to help ease the pain of seeing Oliver around the house. Elio had kept his distance and as much as he wanted to crawl into bed with the older man, he didn’t.

“When’s the wedding?” his father had asked Oliver over breakfast one morning.

Oliver’s eyes had been on Elio’s face the entire time he answered. “Soon, not sure when the exact date will be.” Elio didn’t look up.

He left a moment later to meet Marzia in town for lunch.

That had been earlier in the week. Now, he was moving on the dancefloor like he had no care in the world. The song was blurred in the background and the night took him away. He moved his body in the crowds and let the words of the song wash over his skin like a wave in the ocean.

He was swept up in the heat of the song, hair bouncing, feet moving agilely. “Luke is here,” Marzia said, smiling over the beat of the song. Elio looked up and saw Luke walking towards them. And maybe it was the alcohol or the heat of the night but he grabbed at the chance.

He wanted to feel someone’s body next to his own. He wanted to touch and take and give. He wanted someone’s hands on him and Luke seemed happy enough to be that person. The minute Luke was in the circle, Elio pushed his body into his hold, like Chiara had when she had danced with Oliver a year ago. Luke’s hands were on his hips, Elio’s arms around his neck, their hips moved against each other’s as the chorus sprang up around them and people hollered.

“You’re so beautiful,” Luke whispered in his ear and if Elio closed his eyes he could pretend it was Oliver. He pushed his mouth against the other man’s and for a moment, Luke paused, as if he were about to pull away. But then he pressed his mouth harder against Elio’s.

He tasted like cigarettes and alcohol. He felt hot and heavy against his body and as Elio’s moan was swallowed by his mouth, Luke wrapped his arms around the other male, tighter. Sweaty and needy, Elio held on and when they pulled back, the taste of each other on the other’s lips, like the moment Oliver had tasted peach on Elio’s body, Luke smiled.

Elio didn’t.

Over his shoulder, he saw Oliver standing there with a conflicted look on his face. He turned a moment later, anger practically steaming off his body. Elio felt a joyous triumph coiling in his stomach. If he was angry it meant he still cared. Elio kissed Luke again and let himself get lost in the touch of the other man’s skin and lips as another song came to life around them.

Together, they stumbled home, hands in each other’s and Elio managed to fool himself into believing that this is what he wanted. They kissed up against the wall of his house and giggled into each other’s mouths as they fumbled with clothes at the doorway. The spell, however, was broken the moment they reached Luke’s – (usually) Elio’s – room.

“Don’t you have to be working tomorrow?” Oliver said, coming out from the spare room down the hall. He looked _livid_. He stared at Luke with sharp eyes. “Maybe you should focus on that instead.”

Luke untangled himself from Elio’s hold and rolled his eyes at the other man, “whatever. We’re only messing around.”

Oliver clenched his teeth. “Messing around?” there was a saddened look in his eyes when he looked at Elio. Elio paused, unable to say anything. He looked away, crestfallen at the sadness in Oliver’s eyes.

Luke looked between the two of them and scoffed. “Whatever is going on, I don’t care. I’m going to bed, this isn’t worth it.”

Elio couldn’t lie, that stung. He felt ashamed. Naked and stupid. Like that peach, used and discarded as if he meant nothing. Luke’s words had cut him like a knife. He wasn’t worth it. Is that what Oliver thought too? Tears sprang to his eyes and for a moment he stood there shaking, until he felt arms around him.

“I got you,” Oliver said softly, “I got you. I’ve got you now, Elio.”

He sobbed like he had into Oliver’s chest that day with the peach. He cried for all the time that had passed and for how much he wished Oliver was his. He clung to other man’s shirt and allowed himself to be steered into his room. He allowed himself this comfort before it was taken away.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Oliver whispered, rocking Elio on his bed. Elio felt safe and wanted and loved and he wished it would stay. For he knew within a couple of weeks, Oliver would be gone again. “He’s not worth it. You _are_.”

Elio turned his face to look up at Oliver. He wanted him so much. He leaned up and looked into his eyes. Eyes that had held and worshiped his body. The room felt too small now. Electricity seemed to spark between them. Something tugged Elio closer, an undercurrent that had never really gone away. A whistle in the breeze on a spring’s morning, comforting and new, the sight of summer after the cold months, the lust of its hold that curled its way around them. All of it was back.

“I’ve missed you,” Elio whispered. He hiccupped over a small, vulnerable noise.

Oliver stroked his cheek, wiped away his tears, “I’ve missed you too.” And then Elio was leaning in and pressing his mouth to Oliver’s. But then as soon as it was back, Oliver pulled away.

“I can’t do this,” he said sadly. Repeating those words from months before. Elio’s face dropped. He felt so broken. Alone. Hurt. Like it was happening all over again.

“Why don’t you want me?” he asked, sounding more like a whimper, tears clouding his vision again, they threatened to fall and that they did, his body shook as he forced himself to try and stand, to get away, to escape.

“What do I do? Why does she get to have you?” Anger and sorrow all mixed into one. He tried to move, but Oliver’s arms tightened around him.

“I do want you. I want you so much. I can’t stop loving you,” Oliver whispered, cupping Elio’s face again. “I want to kiss you and hold you. I want all of it. All of it again and more.”

“But you can’t,” Elio snapped through his tears, reeling away. He felt disgusted at himself for letting Oliver back into his heart, for allowing himself to feel weak. He wanted to hurt Oliver, make him feel everything he was feeling. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. Let me go.”

“No,” Oliver shook his head, “no. Listen to me. I can’t do this because you’re not thinking straight. I want you, I want us. But you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Elio paused, he stared up at the other man. Heart in his throat. Elio was hard, of all things. He would have blushed in another situation but he didn’t. “I do know,” he crawled onto his lap like he had months ago and buried his face in Oliver’s chest. Clung on tight, “don’t let me go again.” Oliver smelt like burning candles and _home_.

“I won’t, I won’t, love,” Oliver kissed his head. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. When you saw me that day, when you went dancing with Luke. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“I was mad at you,” Elio said, voice trembling. “You moved on with your life and forgot about me. Getting married. Having a family. Like I was never there.” He sounded so small and lost. He wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck and pushed his smaller body against the other male’s. He pressed his lips to Oliver’s neck and wrapped his legs around the older man’s waist, rocking on his lap, needy.

His movements were fevered like those days in the sun when he’d hugged the other man, desperate for his touch, for his mouth and hands. Like when they’d kissed and fallen into bed together, the heat of summer dissolving around them.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. None of that now, we have time. I could never forget you,” Oliver whispered, taking Elio’s face in his hands. He leaned in and pressed a chaste, sweet kiss on his lips. “Never could get over you.”

Elio whimpered against his mouth and pressed back harder, opening his mouth when Oliver’s tongue entered, licking in there. The kiss deepened, heated and hungry, a low grumble left Oliver’s lips and his big hands tightened on the smaller man’s body.

“Baby,” Oliver whispered. “You need to sleep, love.”

Elio shivered. He had called him _baby_. He loved that.

Oliver pecked his lips. Elio felt lightheaded. Small, wanton noises left his lips when Oliver pulled back and the older man smiled, stroking his cheek with his fingertips, trailing his lips over Elio’s eyelids and forehead. Tracing his plump lips and neck, ducking down to kiss his jaw and suck, nip and bite softly at the soft skin there. He made a happy noise at the back of his throat when Elio’s hands clutched at him.

“You still want me? What about your wife?” Elio asked breathlessly when Oliver lay him down. They weren’t going to do anything tonight, not with Elio feeling so vulnerable.

Oliver shook his head, “we’re not married. I think she knows. I came here to see if…to see if what we had was real. To see if we could fix this. Do this right.”

“And can we?” Elio looked up at him. He wanted him, he wanted him, he wanted him.

Oliver smiled. He kissed Elio’s forehead. “I think we can.”

Elio fell asleep that night, cuddled on Oliver’s chest.

**Author's Note:**

> AGAIN NOTE: Oliver does not want to take advantage of Elio, so they talk and kiss and sleep. That's all. 
> 
> Heheh, stay tuned for the next part ;)
> 
> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are welcome!


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